What
doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. It’s
something we hear for a greater part of our lives. The thing about living is that there are good
things and there are bad things. In one
of my favorite quotes from Doctor Who, “The good things don't always soften the
bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good
things and make them unimportant.”
Sometimes the bad things happen when you least expect them and don’t
know how to react.
April 2012
I
looked in the mirror and saw the red goop that was my hair. As I washed my face of the excess dye, my
phone rang.
“Jazzy?” It was Grace.
“Hey,
girl! What’s up?” I picked a piece of dye off my ear.
“Can
I come over later and spend the night?”
She sounded fine. But her asking
out of the blue to come over was odd.
This meant either she was having a fight with her parents or wanted to
go to a party and needed an alibi for the night. At least, those were the usual reasons.
“Sure. Why not?”
As
I stepped into the shower I was reminded of the scene from “Psycho”, and not
just because of the unexpected news that was currently on its way over.
I
watched as the red blended with the water and slid on the wet floor of the
shower. Running my hands through my hair, I felt the dye working its
conditioner through my scalp. I didn’t
have anything to think about, my hair was perfect and that’s all that mattered
right there and then.
It
wasn’t until after I dried my hair, got dressed and sat down to watch “Merlin”,
and 11:00, that Grace texted me, I’m here.
Will she ever learn to use a door bell?!
I thought to myself.
“Hey.” I said, as I opened the door.
“Hi.” She didn’t seem normal; in fact she was quite
far from normal.
“Who
died?” Just like the one other time in
my life that I’ve used that phrase, I realized it was a poor choice of
words. All of a sudden she became scared
and I knew something bad had happened.
“Let’s go to the kitchen.”
“Can
we actually go to the basement? I don’t
want your mother walking in on us.” I
said ok and we walked down to the basement.
For a moment after she put all of her stuff down, it was an unusually
large amount of stuff, she just stood in place and looked around her. I, sitting in the lounge chair, didn’t know
how to fill the awkward silence.
However, I soon figured out I didn’t need to.
“I
need to tell you something. And you’re
going to have to promise not to judge me.”
I nodded a couple of times. “Um,
I guess it all starts with when I called you a couple of months ago about the
Plan B thing.” I froze. Where was this going?
“Grace,”
I stood up, slowly, “are you pregnant?”
There was a long silence, as I stood, facing her, and she stood,
refusing to look at me.
“Let
me just talk.” She said, gently,
motioning for me to sit down. I
did. “You know I got it and that time
was fine. But that wasn’t the first time
it broke, and it wasn’t the last.” She
laughed bitterly. “Actually, it broke a lot.
And, well, more recently, I’ve been late. Really
late. I thought it was stress, I mean I
didn’t show any signs.” She paused
again. I held my breath. “Anyway, I was at work and all of a sudden I
felt a huge pain in my pelvis. It hurt so
bad I didn’t know what it was. You have
no idea, Jazzy, how bad it hurt.” Tears
were in her eyes now. “I looked it up,
and this is actually normal for someone like me. I talked to a girl at my work and she said
what happened to me was similar to other cases like it.” She saw my confused expression. And then she collapsed on the floor and pulled her legs into her body. Like a child, she began to rock; tears
began flowing and didn’t stop. “I had a
miscarriage.”
Silence,
absolute silence. Nothing. There was nothing, except for Grace’s sobs. A ringing filled my ears. I couldn’t move I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even breathe. I didn’t know what to do. And then, I realized, it wasn’t about me.
“How
long ago did this happen?” I finally
asked.
“About
a month ago. I didn’t know how to tell
you, or anybody really.”
“Does
your mom know?” I asked, tentatively.
Grace
gave a hollow laugh that sounded more like a scoff. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t even be in the house if they knew
about this.
“I
highly doubt that.” I was telling the
truth. Grace’s parents were like any
parents. They definitely didn’t want her
out of the house, especially not on the street, and especially not with a kid.
I
found the courage to speak, “What do you want me to do?” I gasped, desperate. “I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what
to do!” I flailed my arms, I was so
desperate to do something.
“Hold
me.” The pang in my heart began to swell
until I couldn’t hold in anymore tears. I
immediately knelt down next to her and wrapped my arms around her, and together
we sobbed. For how long, I’m not
sure. It seemed like forever, a horrible
situation that will never go away. The
tears flowed down my cheeks and into my long forgotten hair and onto her
sweatshirt, making a puddle that was a mix of both of our tears. The agony of the loss of a child, whether
known or unknown, a gap that will haunt you for a long time and will never be
full. And yet, part of the story didn’t make sense. I slowly broke away.
“What
do you mean for people like you?”
“What?” She looked at me, confused.
“You
said, it’s normal for people like you for this to happen. What do you mean?”
She
broke apart from me and looked me straight in the eye. “Jazzy, I can’t have kids.”
And
then I understood. We had discussed this
before; Grace’s body was not apt for child bearing. It was something that tore her up a lot, and
this was the last straw. This was
proof. The loss of a child was bad, the
worst, except for not being able to have kids at all; especially if you’re like
Grace and have wanted kids for most of your life.
“I’m
so sorry. I don’t know what to say to
make it better.”
“There’s
nothing to say. It just sucks so bad,
I’ve wanted kids my whole life.”
“You
may still have kids, there are always miracles.
Haven’t we always talked about the fact that we’re both miracle
babies?” It was true, at the time of
conception, neither of our mothers were supposed to be able to get pregnant and
both had miscarriages before us.
But
Grace shook her head, “I think this is different, my body doesn’t make sense
for it to give birth!” She sobbed even
more. I rolled my eyes.
“That
is ridiculous! Do you know how many
skinny ass girls have given birth? It’s
not pleasant! But it does the trick!” Grace produced a laugh through her
tears. “And even if you can’t give
birth, there’s always adoption.”
“But
it’s not the same. It won’t be my kid,” Grace sniffled.
“Grace,
how can you say that? So many kids are
adopted now and they all thank, well most at least, their adoptive parents for
adopting them! No matter where they came
from or who they came from, they will be your
child! If you adopt a little girl, she
will adore you for the rest of her life, just like any daughter of yours
would. And if it’s a boy, he will look
up to you as a role model because you are strong-willed and don’t let anyone
push you around. You will be a great
mother no matter what happens. You know
I’m not super religious, but I do believe we were all put on this earth to
serve some purpose. And you know
what? I think you were meant to be a
mom, and maybe you weren’t supposed to be the biological mom. Maybe it’s something bigger than that?”
“Like
what?” She choked.
“Like
being a savior to orphans! I don’t
know! I’m not God!” She laughed at this. The first real laugh, I realized, I’d heard
from her in a long time. And , once
again, there was silence.
Until,
“Does Chris know about this!?” It just
occurred to me that maybe the father of the baby would like to know his
girlfriend was pregnant, regardless of how brief.
“Oh
he knows.” Grace got up and walked over
to her stuff on the couch and picked up a Walgreens bag. She opened it as she brought it over to me
and placed it in my lap. Inside were
Skittles, Sour Skittles, Wild berry Skittles, Sour Patch Kids, Twizzlers, gummy
bears, sour drops, and other kinds of candy.
I
just stared at the bag of candy. And
then I laughed, which made her laugh, and then we were laughing together.
“All
he knows how to make you feel better is to buy you candy!” I said, in amused disbelief.
“Well,
he does know me well.” She said, taking
out the sour skittles. “You can have the
wild berry ones; he only got me those because they only had one of sour and one
of original.” When I pulled out the bag,
Grace held up hers. “To new things and
new beginnings. Cheers.”
I
laughed. “Cheers.” And as we dug into the bags of candy,
It’s
funny how things turn around. Grace has
a funny way of showing she’s fine when she’s really not. I knew the miscarriage ate her up inside, but
it wasn’t until a little over a year later that I realized how much.
July
2013
“Jazzy?!” Shouted the voice through my receiver.
“Mark,
I can hear you just fine.” I shouted
back.
“Sorry,
I’m at a party. Hold on.” I held on.
“I’m back. Sorry about that.”
“It’s
fine. What’s up? Are you ok?”
It would only be a dire emergency for Mark to actually call me instead
of text.
“Um,
well, I’m ok. It’s Grace, though. She’s not ok.” My heart sank.
“What’s
wrong?”
“She’s
drunk.”
“Mark,
it’s Grace, she’s drunk a lot.”
“Yeah,
well this time she drove.” Oh,
great. Now I really needed to know where
they were.
“Where
are you?” I sounded defeated aparantly.
“I’m
sooo sorry, Little Red.” He sounded like
it too. I felt bad that he felt so bad.
“It’s
ok. That’s what friends are for,
right?”
I
got the address and plugged it into my phone’s GPS. It was somewhere near downtown, the sketchy
part of downtown, faraway from anyone I knew.
What was Grace doing there? It
wasn’t near her home. It wasn’t near Kushel’s
house either. Why did have to be so dark
out? Oh yeah, it was one in the
morning! And why did I have to go save
Grace’s ass? Oh yeah, it was Grace! And why were there so many stoplights in
downtown Louisville?!
After
I pulled up to a sketchy house filled with people I didn’t know, I called Mark
again. He answered on the first ring.
“Hi,
are you here?” He sounded
desperate. Things couldn’t have gotten
that much worse, could they?
“Yeah. Where are you?” There was so much noise, now I knew why he
shouted on the phone earlier.
“In
the bathroom on the second floor.” And
there was the dreaded puking noise, then a wail sounded a lot like “AVA!”
“Jazzy, please hurry.” I did.
“Hey,
what are you doing here?” It was Neil
Cross, Grace’s ex.
“Looking
for Grace. Have you seen her?” I shouted over the noise.
“Ooo,
yeah, she’s up there. She’s not looking
so hot.” He motioned to the set of
stairs across the room.
“Thanks.” I pushed through the crowd of people and ran
up the stairs. The hallway had many
doors, but the sound of a small girl upchucking lead me to the bathroom. I knocked on the door.
“It’s
Jazzy.”
“Oh
thank God!” Mark opened the door. “Thank you thank you THANK YOU!” He rushed towards and smothered me in a hug.
“You’re
welcome.” I peered around him a looked
at my friend, whose head was in the toilet.
“Is she ok?”
Grace’s
head snapped back suddenly.
“Avaaa.” She wailed. And put her head back in the toilet.
“We
can’t take her home like this. She
wouldn’t make the car ride home.” I let
my back fall onto the wall and slid down.
My head was so heavy from being so tired that I let it fall onto my
knees. “I’m soooo tired.” I mumbled into my jeans.
“I’m
so sorry, Jazzy.” Mark came over to me
and put his arms around my ball of a body.
“Seriously,
what is she going to do next year? I
won’t be at Murray to help her when she’s like this. And you won’t be either, will you?” Sometimes as the mother of the group, I felt
I had an obligation to worry about everyone.
The only problem is, it gets tiring after a while and soon there’s no
more energy to worry about anyone but yourself.
“I’m
sure she’ll be fine. She’ll make
friends, she’s Grace.” I rolled my eyes,
Mark was so optimistic. He always had a
blind spot when it came to Grace, she could do no wrong. Well I saw her in a different light. I loved Grace but I still worried about her
ability to make new friends, she always hung on to her clutches: me and Mark
and ex-boyfriends.
We
all jumped as someone knocked on the door.
“Everyone ok in there?” It was
Neil. He cracked the door and peered
around.
“Yeah
we’re fine.” I said.
“She not though.” He said, nodding to
Grace.
“Yeah,
well, better out than in.” I gave him a
tight-lipped smile.
“Uh,
ok.” He seemed a little skeptic. But nonetheless he turned around and left.
The
sound Grace’s stomach coming through her mouth, once again, was too much just
then. “I’m going to take a breather.”
When
I stepped outside, I ran into a Neil that didn’t seem to know what to do. “Hey.
Weren’t you going to go back to your party?” I asked, a little confused.
“Well, it’s not my party. But I was, and then I felt bad leaving Grace
up here.” He sounded like he had an
obligation to fulfill.
“Well,
Mark and I are here so…” I motioned
towards the party.
“Yeah
but I drove them here.” He looked
guilty, I guess he did have an obligation towards Grace.
“Oh. That’s why they called me.” I realized.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry, man, I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s
ok. It’s whatever really.” There was a long, awkward pause where Neil
and I passed looks back and forth. And
then I thought, why shouldn’t I talk to him?
He’s not some untouchable, unknown piece of Grace’s history. He’s Neil, the guy I’ve known since seventh
grade. “So, where are you going to
school next year?” Well that was
lame. Everyone in the senior class was
probably annoyed with that question, having been asked that by basically
everybody.
“University
of Kentucky, actually.” He admitted.
“Oh
yeah, I remember you were thinking about them in the fall weren’t you? Do you know what you’re majoring in?”
“Design,
scene design. Same stuff.”
“Really? Last I heard you wanted to major in
pharmacy.” Then again, last time we
talked was last summer.
“Yeah,
but then my auditions at career day went really well and I decided that that
was what I really wanted to do.”
“That’s
cool.” I didn’t know much about
Neil. But I do remember back in eighth
grade, when I asked him why he chose design and production as his major at
YPAS, he said, “I like to build things.”
I’m the last person to say don’t follow what you love.
“What
about you? Where are you going in the
fall?”
“Northern
Kentucky University.”
He
seemed surprised. “For what? Not orchestra?”
I
gave him a look. “No, not for
orchestra. I’m majoring in
theatre.” I paused, and then I admitted,
“On music scholarship.”
“That’s
right, you do do theatre don’t you?”
Thankfully, Grace chose that moment to wail, “AVA!” again.
“I
should probably get her home. She hasn’t
thrown up in a while so maybe she’s done for the night.”
“Maybe.” Neil said.
“I’ll see you later, Jazzy. Have
fun in college.”
“You
too.” And that was the last I saw of him
that night. When I walked in, Grace was ,half
passed out on the floor; half mumbling that she wanted to go home.
“You
know she can’t go home like this.” I
told Mark.
“I
know. What are we going to do?”
“Well
I guess she’s going to have to spend the night.”
“Ok. That’s probably best.”
“I’ll
text my mom that we’re coming home with her.
I’m assuming that I’m dropping you off.”
“Ok. Do you need directions?”
“Probably.” I turned to Grace. “Hey, sweetie, you’re going to my house ok?”
“Yay!” She squealed, sleepily.
“Come
on, up you get. Mark, I’m going to need
your help, I can’t lift her on my own.”
“She’s
not that heavy, though, is she?” Mark,
already holding her things, looked like had his hands full. But I couldn’t lift her by myself, not with
my back. I reminded him of that. “Ok, ok, but take some of her shit.”
I
grabbed her bag, he had her shoes, and between the two of us, we half carried
half dragged Grace to my car. The entire
time I kept wondering, who was Ava, why was she so important? I didn’t understand how I kept getting myself
into these situations, and how I always managed to get myself out. It was truly a miracle that I hadn’t yet
found a situation I didn’t know how to handle.
And then I looked at Grace, a lump between Mark and I and I knew that
Grace had found that situation. Whatever
had made her drink so much that she bypassed every known common sense she had,
was tearing her up inside. And then only
thing I could think of that made sense was Ava.
When
we finally reached my car, it was 2:30 am.
“I really hope my parents haven’t noticed I’m not there before I have a
chance to tell them why I’m not there.”
“I
don’t live with my parents.” Mark
gloated.
“Whatever,
let’s just get her into the car.” I
managed to get my backseat open with one hand.
“Ok, Gracie, if you’ll just get into the car.”
“But
I don’t wanna!” She pouted.
“But
if you want to go home, you have to get in the car.” I reasoned.
That seemed to be enough for her.
After we buckled her in, she slumped on the seat next to her and fell
asleep. “Well, you know what?” I said, giving up on all sense of
normality. “It’s good enough for
me.” Mark laughed and got into the car.
I
dropped Mark off, with no peep from Grace in the backseat. By the time we got to my house, I could tell
she was sound asleep. But that didn’t
stop me from trying to wake her.
“Gracie,”
I coaxed. “Graaaacieee, you need to get
up now. If you don’t, you’ll have to
sleep in this uncomfortable car.” She
stirred, but only slightly. “Think about
a nice warm bed. All cozy and warm.” She stirred a little more. “But we have to go inside to get to it.” She reached her arms up and I put them around
my neck. I helped her out of the car, up
the stairs and into the house. It was difficult,
because Grace kept deciding it was a good idea to fall up the stairs and on the
porch. But finally I succeeded and got
her to the bed I had promised.
If
I had been in my right mind, and it wasn’t 3:00 in the morning, I probably
would’ve written a note to Grace telling her what happened and why she was in
my house. I also would’ve told my mom
what was going on and then she could’ve told my dad. Unfortunately I did none of these
things. Being so tired, I fell asleep
next to Grace in the guest room on the main floor. We woke up to my dad, being pretty loud,
parading around in a towel. The way he
tells this story, he actually saw us in the room and, went to go put on said
towel. The most frightening part about
this story is that if we had woken up five minutes earlier, we would’ve seen my
dad walking around in his birthday suit.
You can imagine my thanks that we didn’t.
Personally
I woke to Grace, talking to herself.
“Why the fuck is Jazzy’s dad walking around in a towel? Where the fuck am I? Why am I at Jazzy’s house?” Her voice got louder with each question,
until she turned on her side and saw me, still waking up, and let out a loud
screech.
“Whoa! Chill out!”
I shouted over her.
“What
the fuck happened last night?” And then she fell back to the pillows, face
first, with a whimper of pain.
“What’s
up?” I said, concerned.
“My
fucking head!” She said into her pillow.
“Yeah,
that’s what happens when you get really fucking smashed!” Now I was mad, she had done this, she was why
I was up half the night at a party I wasn’t invited to.
“Yeah,
I figured that. It wasn’t exactly my
first party, you know. I’ve been drunk
before.” She said all this very
spitefully.
“You
need coffee.” I said, getting out of the
bed I had so graciously had given her last night.
“I
need coffee.” She repeated, following me
to the kitchen.
After
I had gotten the coffee started, I turned to the refrigerator to look for
something to eat. “Do you want
anything?”
“No. Just coffee.”
Grace put her head down on the table.
I
poured her cup and set it down in front of her.
Not even looking up, Grace felt her way to the handle and dragged it
closer to her. I watched her as she
raised it to her lips and put it back down.
“Where
did Neil go last night?” She asked.
“What
do you mean?”
“Like,
was he there when we left?” She seemed
concerned about something.
“Yeah,
why?”
“Nothing,
don’t worry about it.”
I
needed to know. Thinking through the
silence, I worded my sentence in my head.
“Who’s Ava?” Not my best thought
process.
“What?” Grace’s head popped up off the table.
“Ava,
who is she?”
Grace
froze, as if thinking. “Did I say
something last night?”
“Yeah,
actually, you did.”
She
took a deep breath, “Ava’s the child I lost.”
She talked slowly and quietly, as if she didn't know how I'd take
it.
“Oh. Ok.” I didn't understand completely why she had a name for something that she was so devastated about. But I had the feeling that understanding was not the problem, but accepting and remembering was what kept her going.